


Training Rowena

by Miellat_II



Category: Original Work
Genre: Bedwetting, Bladder Control, Bladder Inflation, Clit Inflation, Conditioning, Dubious Consent, Exhibitionism, F/F, Femdom, Forced Masturbation, Magic, Predicament Bondage, Sexual Torture, Shaving, body modification (sexual), governess/charge d/s, pussy expansion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-11-29 12:56:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18223448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miellat_II/pseuds/Miellat_II
Summary: Before coming into the care of Dr Kildaire, Rowena had a Governess with a very particular system of discipline.





	Training Rowena

**Author's Note:**

> Rowena is meant to be an appropriate age in this, the setting is pseudo-historical however, and Rowena is a sheltered and properly innocent young lady.

Rowena was a nervous child, and her Governess was given free reign over her by her mother, who was not very attentive.

Governess Manderly was a very tall, very sharply pretty woman of thirty-nine years, who had excellent references from all of the families she had raised the children of. She wore very simple but very well-made dresses in dark colours of worsted. She was frightening, but not sadistic. She did not punish, but set out to _discipline_ beforehand.

Thus, young Rowena was told to undress for a bath and lay down on some towelling afterwards, and her Governess proceeded to shave the petals of her labia majora and the swell of her mons. Rowena was afraid to ask, and Governess was not forthcoming, so the only one speaking in the silence while Governess worked was the razor, who only said, _shhhhhng shhhhhng_ with every stroke. Rowena was terrified to move, feeling the sharpness of the razor so very near such tender parts. When Governess was done, she wiped the lather away with a soft towel dipped in hot, clean water, and patted it dry.

‘Good girl, Rowena,’ she said in her low, smoky voice, her hands parting Rowena’s newly-exposed labia and using a finger to apply a bit of lubricant, holding Rowena open. ‘Hold yourself open, like so.’ She instructed. ‘We are learning self-control.’

‘Y-yes, ma’am,’ Rowena said, reaching down with her pretty, trembling hands and reaching under her thighs, taking on the humiliating task of holding her own labia open.

Governess began to stroke her clit with one finger, the other hand gently sliding the long, invasive tube of a catheter into Rowena’s urethra, pinching and pulling at Rowena’s oversized clit to force her body to get aroused, and manipulate her hindbrain into associating the catheter with pleasure. ‘Good girl, Rowena,’ she encouraged, ‘That’s it, good girl.’

Rowena was biting back the tiniest whimper, her breaths fast and shallow, her bare quim flushing wonderfully. Governess breached the opening of her bladder, and the catheter’s progress was suddenly easier than before. She slid it back and forth a few times, before inflating the bulb at the end and saying, ‘ _There_ ,’ with a tone of satisfaction. ‘Now,’ she said to Rowena, ‘I want you to take your hands and stroke your own clit, just here, just like this.’

Rowena was as red in her cheeks as her quim, but did not think at all of disobeying. She moved her hands, her fingers unsure. Governess was not deterred, and shewed her how to move them. ‘Like that,’ she said, and watched as she took her hands away, and let Rowena try alone for a few moments. ‘Not so hard,’ she said, and, ‘There, much better. We must be gentle with our clit.’

‘Yes, ma’am,’ Rowena said, in a very breathy, very small voice. The thing inside her felt so awfully invasive… she kept wanting to tense around it, as much as she wanted _not_ to tense around it, for fear of pain. Then, just as it was starting to fade, cold seeped upward from the outside, up inside her and into her bladder, which, being a muscle, started to do what all muscles do when cold, and tense.

Governess gently lowered Rowena’s legs, so that they were spread but no longer raised. ‘Good girl, Rowena, keep going until I tell you to stop.’

Governess Manderly watched as the bladder swelled beneath Rowena’s hands, knowing the body was suffering as it held itself tense, yet was pushed outward, outward, and she got out her clit-stimulation wand just as Rowena was starting to have trouble reaching. ‘Stop.’

Rowena stopped. ‘Yes, ma’am.’

‘Put your hands at your sides.’

Rowena withdrew her hands, grateful and in terrible agony. Her bladder had never been so full, was getting fuller, but the cold was making her tense.

‘Good girl.’ Governess watched for a moment or two, the bladder going past natural firmness and well into starting to bulge. She lifted Rowena’s hood, slid the curved spatulate tip of the wand beneath it, tugging it down to clip just behind the head, letting the tip of the wand cup the tender head of the clitoris. Rowena, eager to please child she was, stayed as quiet as a girl of her age was capable of being, only making small noises in her throat.

Governess Manderly watched her bladder grow, cruelly forced to tension by the cold, watched Rowena start to breathe a little deeper, grow accustomed to it—as accustomed as one _could_ be—and only then did she turn the wand on, the power running through it to Rowena’s body, bathing just that organ in a particular frequency that caused it to begin to grow, and swell, the hood forced to stretch with it.

Rowena’s whimpers turned to muffled and bitten back whines. Governess Manderly held the wand, watched with infinite patience as Rowena’s bladder was forced to hold more than its share of icy water, bulging as though an apple were inside of it, watching her clit swell, slowly doubling in size like a small, pink bun set to rise. When it had finished doubling, Governess Manderly stopped, unclipping the hood, which now had a point at its centre from the clip’s hold, and putting the wand away. The clit drooped, and she began to rub it, watching as the girl’s bare quim contracted, which tensed her around the catheter’s unforgiving length.

‘Good girl, Rowena, almost done, and then you can go to sleep.’ As it was her first night, the Governess was only planning to fill her with half a litre, and watched carefully, the bladder a visible and obvious bulge by now, Rowena making helpless noises, staring up at the canopy of the bed, glassy-eyed.

At long last, it was done, and Governess Manderly stopped the water’s flow, sliding out the catheter and stopping the urethra with a simple locking charm, that would only unlock with her permission. ‘Now, Rowena,’ she said, ‘It is time for all good girls to go to bed.’ She stood, taking her case of tools in her hand. ‘Come along,’ she said, ‘Sit up, put on your nightgown and your knickers.’

‘Y-yes ma’am,’ Rowena said, whimpering as she got up, but dutifully going over to her clothes-chest and putting on a pair of pink knickers, and her pink nightgown.

‘Good girl,’ Governess said, ‘Now, I shall see you in the morning.’

Rowena had no way of knowing that the lock on her bladder was set to unlock should she orgasm. She was a curious girl, and after Governess had tucked her into her soft bed, Rowena lay awake and reached down, exploring what Governess had done, from the baby-smooth skin of her quim to the way her clit was now so big, so swollen up, that it pushed itself from between her labia, constantly exposed to the air, and the sheet. Rowena put her own little hands on the bulge of her distended bladder, and tried to warm it. Eventually, she fell asleep, and had very interesting dreams, and woke up with her bed soaking wet, and her bladder empty.

She was, naturally, quite horrified. She had never wet the bed, and felt quite helpless, so much worried about Governess’ opinion of her being sullied that she began to cry, in the grey light of dawn, which is the only time one can hear birdsong, in the City.

When Governess came in, she immediately confessed to her crime, and apologised, and begged for Governess to fix it—for a Governess, I do not know if you know this, as I do, is also a kind of nurse, to her charges, and the first physician one knows, if one was raised by a Governess.

Governess Manderly asked if she had touched herself at all, or come. Rowena shook her head vehemently, horrified. ‘I would never!’ she cried over and over, quite overwrought with nerves. Governess shushed her, firm but not angry.

‘We shall try again tonight, with clean sheets,’ she said, ‘and this time, we shall tie your hands.’

-

That day, Governess’ lessons were on manners, and comportment, and she had Rowena practise sitting up straight while writing letters, knowing full well it would rub at her fattened clit terribly, to sit up straight. By bedtime, Governess Manderly was sure that day’s regimen had tormented Rowena’s mind and quim quite awfully, and was rewarded with a flushed, dripping quim, red and pink and loose enough to be—well, but that was for when Rowena was a little older.

Tonight, just to break Rowena just that little bit more, Governess filled her half again as much, with water so cold it was nearly frozen, and doubled her clit in size again.

Rowena, as Governess expected, wet her bed again, in her dreams; as Governess Manderly knew she would; and she was again mortified and helpless, as Governess Manderly knew she would be. Rowena had not a wilful bone in her little body, which made her a very quick study for the nightly discipline her Governess set her to.

The third night, Governess Manderly tied Rowena’s legs open as wide as they would go, and affixed a tube with a flared rim just slightly wider than the mouth of her urethra to it.

‘If you cannot control yourself, then this is the way you must sleep from now on,’ said Governess.

‘Yes, ma’am,’ Rowena said softly, shamefaced and meek. Governess leaned on the bedpost and admired her, her little quim almost eclipsed by a clit almost the size of a blood-orange, that was held up with the help of a pink ribbon around it, the tails of which were tied around Rowena’s waist, holding her clit up and out of the way of the tube, which was run off the bed and underneath it, to empty in a chamber-pot.

Rowena slept much better, and was less upset, now that she had the surety. And that was just how Governess Manderly wanted it.

The next day, the Governess began accustoming Rowena to her clit being exposed at all times. She gently rinsed and cleaned Rowena’s clit with a soft towel, and dressed Rowena in a swimsuit with a drawstring opening, pulling her clit through, and tightening the string, tying it off in a bow. They went down to the seaside, and the Governess told Rowena she could either go play in the waves or she could sunbathe on her back. Rowena chose sunbathing, thinking it would cause her less embarrassment.

Governess had her lay on her back, and sat beside her on an identical towel, reading an improving book and rubbing and squeezing her clit, drizzling it with oil at intervals while the sun warmed them. Rowena tried very hard, but was unable to help squirming (Governess held her by the clit very tightly, which only made it worse), and especially unable to help mewling and crying. Eventually, after what felt like an eternity (but was only an hour), Governess pulled her hand away from Rowena’s clit, and they went home, Rowena very aware of all the people they passed, and the complete inability to hide her heavy, swaying, reddened clit from the world.

Governess filling Rowena’s bladder and placing the wand to cup her clit (it was always the perfect size) had become routine now, and Rowena looked forward to the bedtime ritual with fear in her brain, but trained arousal in her body.

‘Your clit is quite big enough,’ Governess declared, rubbing it with the flat of her entire hand, pressing it against Rowena’s body, and squeezing it. ‘I think it is time we work on other things.’

Governess Manderly led Rowena into her room, and strapped her into a very special chair, that held her legs open and had an opening to let her clit hang freely, and left all of her openings exposed to the air, unprotected, her labia hanging down. Governess began to rub them with a salve, and they began to swell, flushing red and getting fatter as Rowena watched.

‘There,’ Governess said, still rubbing them, adding more salve at intervals. ‘Such a nice big quim you have, Rowena, to go with your fat little clit.’

Rowena felt her cheeks flush, at such words, but she felt her quim get warm and wet, and Governess could not stop rubbing it, and it swelled, and grew, until she was certain she would not be able to close her legs. Governess began to rub at her clit, and Rowena came, and the size of her quim was finalised forever.

 


End file.
